


Knee-jerk

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [292]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gets fluffy at the end, Language, M/M, Post TLD, Scars mentioned, idiot boys talking finally, no tfp, not so fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:03:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: knee-jerk: adjective: NEE-jerk: readily predictable; automaticFrom Merriam-Webster:Around 1876, the sudden involuntary extension of the leg in response to a light blow just below the knee, which is also known as the patellar reflex, was given the refreshingly simple designation knee jerk. In the 1950s, knee-jerk became an adjective with a figurative sense that doesn't require any actual twitching. "As a salesman, I'm getting a bit weary of the knee-jerk association of a con artist with my professional calling," a correspondent once wrote to The New York Times Magazine. Knee-jerk often has a negative connotation. It usually denotes a too-hasty, impulsive, perhaps even irrational response that is often based on preconceived notions.





	Knee-jerk

"Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing."

"Sorr - I guess it's just a knee-jerk reaction. And I do - you don't - I don't - deserve you."

"Not this again." Sherlock dropped onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

"John. Do you - hell."

"What?"

"Why. are. you. here?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you want from me?"

"What do I -"

"What the hell do you want from me? Easy question, John."

"I -"

"If you don't know, then get out."

"I want -"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and groaned as he struggles to sit up. "Yes?"

"You."

"Why?"

"Why."

"That's the question. Yep. Why do you want me now?"

"Because I - I was - I am a moron."

Sherlock shrugged. 

"But you know that."

"Yes."

"I'm - your moron."

Sherlock got to his feet and walked slowly to the window. "Since when?"

"Always."

"Bullshit."

John moved to stand behind Sherlock and gently slid the faded blue robe from Sherlock's shoulders.

"John -"

"Shh."

"Don't." Sherlock whimpered as he felt John's fingers tease his shirt up. "John - you - please - you don't understand."

"What don't I understand, Sherlock? The scars? The fact that you're damaged? I know, love. You think I don't know - didn't know? How could I not know?" Sherlock froze, but allowed John to work his tshirt over his head. "Don't you know?"

Sherlock shook his head. 

"You are still the most beautiful, most astonishingly brilliant person I've ever known. Yes, you're a pain in the arse, you - you could have killed yourself. Hell, I nearly killed you. You almost died again, Sherlock. You - I thought - if you honestly loved me, had any feelings for me at all -" John ran his fingertips over the deepest scar along Sherlock's hip, then held him in his arms as Sherlock slowly crumpled to the floor. "If you - please, let me - allow me to love you."

"Why?" Sherlock whispered again, as John placed his nose into his dark tangle of curls and took a deep breath in.

"Because I don't - I don't want to do anything else. Just - please?"

"You want to come home?"

"If you -"

"Do you want to come home, bring Rosie here, live here, with me? I'm not going to change, John. You know who I am. Don't expect me -"

"Do you want us - do you love me, Sherlock?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John and sighed. "Really, John? You have to ask me that?

"Yes."

"You truly are a moron."

"Guilty."

Sherlock sighed and shook his head. "Oh, God, yes, John. I love you."


End file.
